


Witness

by theblindtorpedo



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bedside Vigils, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mystery Trio, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/pseuds/theblindtorpedo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I almost lost you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witness

At first, Stan thought he must be in some variation of Heaven. He felt like he was floating, although he recognized he was laying in a bed. His own bed. He would have sought back sleep again, if not for the open window. Moonlight tracked columns against the grain of the floorboards, blocked by a single silhouette sitting against the sill. The light grey in the other man’s hair glinted, ringing his head like a halo. He was knitting an indeterminable object, the motions producing a gentle clacking.

Stan watched the dance of those dexterous fingers with interest.

The other man hadn’t noticed he was awake yet, which Stan was thankful for. This way he could just watch. And Stan couldn’t think of a sight he would rather have seen upon awakening. Beautiful Fiddleford. Not like those nightmares. So much blood, on his hands and his face and his clothes. He did not know to whom it all belonged. A limp body in his hands, blank blue eyes. Screaming. His own screaming. Darkness in his vision, but still the smell of blood. Then Stanford-

But that was a dream and here he was safe, with Fiddleford waiting for him like an angel.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

The needles clattered to the floor as Fiddleford fell over scrambling to get out of the chair. Stan chuckled at the endearing sight, before being reduced to wracking coughs. Fiddleford crawled without dignity, reaching the bed then pulling himself up to lean over the boxer. His hands fluttered nervously, afraid to touch, as he laughed in hysteric short hiccups.

“Stan-stan-stan-stan.”

“How long have I been . . . ”

“Two days. Two awful days. I almost lost you.”

Stan thought on that. The details of the event were vague. Two days was a long time to be asleep. He must be seriously injured.

“I almost lost _you,_ Fids.”

“W-what? Nothing happened to me, you're the one who was hurt!"

"Yeah, but wouldn’t have been much fun going to the other side knowin’ I left you here," Stan mused.

“No, no, no, oh, how can you say something like that?!” Now he’d made him upset. Poor Fiddleford.

“Hey, stop it. I don’t like it when you cry.”

Fiddleford’s hands were clamped around his mouth, choking back the sobs that accompanied the tears leaking from his eyes. Stan raised a single hand, oh it felt so heavy, placing his palm against the back of Fiddleford’s. Soon, the other man allowed his hands to be gently pulled away, exposing his quivering mouth. Stan leaned up, reaching to kiss.

Then Fiddleford was gone.

And it was Stanford who stood in front of him. His brother’s hands were firmly clasping his shoulders.

“Lay down. It’ll be better this way.”

“Where’s Fiddleford? We-” Stan suddenly became aware of pain. Intense, mind-numbing pain. He moaned. He could barely talk, his chest throbbing and his throat constricted. 

Stanford’s mouth was grim. “He’s waiting for you. I-it’s good to see you awake. I thought I wasn’t going to get the chance to.”

“Ford-”

“It’s best not to talk. If you exert yourself it’ll all happen faster. A-and I don't want to see you struggle.”

What?! Stan screamed, but nothing came out of his mouth. He felt like he was beating at stone, trying to move, to speak, anything. Stanford moved to clutch around his brothers hands, twelve fingers holding on tight. “I’ll be here to the end. It’s okay, Stanley. Just relax. A-and, I just wanted to say. I’m sorry. I love you and I’m sorry.”

The words were barely heard echoes as Stan was once again drowned in darkness.

The next morning, Stanford Pines dug two graves.


End file.
